"Mom, I just wish Alaska had lived."
"Yeah. Me, too. More than anything in the world. But she's still with us. We are lucky to have an angel baby."
And as I said this to my boys through stifled sobs, I sort of believed it. But I mostly just want our Alaska back alive, in the physical sense. We all keep saying how beautiful she is. Well, guess what? I want to actually SEE Alaska's beauty with my alive eyes. I want to see her faults. I want to live the messes with her.
I want to hear her snotty comments and see her roll her eyes at her dorky parents.
I want to see her bite her brothers and give them slobbery openmouthed baby kisses.
I want to hear her laugh and cry and scream and swear and pray.
I want to wipe drops of blood from her knees and kiss her tears away.
I want to clean up after her when she throws up all over her bed.
I want her to get pissed off at me and slam a door in my face.
I have to dust her urn instead.
They say that she will feel no pain. She will never suffer. Never live the ugly parts of life. And I suppose it's selfish, but I want to love her through all of that--the best and worst that life throws our way.
I wear an angel necklace instead.
No matter how hard we wish and hope and pray, Alaska is dead. We are lucky to have our angel girl. To have known her for the time we had. I would do this over and over again for her.
I just want her back. Right now. Boom. 19 weeks pregnant.
(That attempt at undoing all of this just now? It didn't work.)